


The Minsiya Tales

by KinoIRC



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoIRC/pseuds/KinoIRC
Summary: A collection of short pieces from Inktober prompts that took much longer than a month to complete.--------------------A forest is just as alive as the plants, animals, and people living within it. It has its own breath, its own personality, its own history and secrets. If there are those brave, wise, called, and driven enough to uncover a forest's depths, who knows what forgotten stories they may uncover...





	1. The Old Man

The squirrel jumped from treetop to treetop, scampering up and down branches with a practiced precision. No move was undeliberate, and anyone paying attention who had looked up at the occasional, almost imperceptible rustle would only have seen a slight streak of grey slip between the highest leaves.

Then again, anyone paying attention would have also noticed when the trees stopped.

Rowan had run these trees for years now, so much so that the steps were second nature. He barely needed to focus on where he was going, and if his path wandered in his absent-mindedness, his inherent sense of direction would inevitably guide him back to where he meant to go. So instead, his mind was focused on what he was going to do when he got there. 

There was a rather large warren that he hadn’t checked up on in a while, and if the rabbits were becoming too obvious, then that might bring a lot of attention to the area. Abundant prey would attract small predators, which would attract larger predators, and so on. Usually this wouldn’t be a problem; Rowan had been around long enough to know how nature worked. But with this warren so close to the edge of his forest, and subsequently the edge of the village, he didn’t want a curious wolf or particularly vigilant town watchman to start any trouble. 

He could probably find a place to move them if it was going to be an issue, and because he was thinking of such places, he might not have recognized the change in the branches beneath his feet. Or maybe it was because he was so used to the wind underneath him that he didn’t think it odd. Not so much in this form, but his mind wasn’t quite what it used to be, and there had been nights recently where he had fallen asleep as one animal and woken up as another. Regardless, he didn’t realize there was anything wrong until it was too late.

The squirrel soared off the top of a tall hickory tree, its paws stretched out in a graceful leap until they didn’t find the purchase they were expecting. They started to flail as they plummeted towards the ground and tried to trace out some sort of pattern while the squirrel chittered away rhythmically. But whatever the squirrel was attempting to do was not in enough time, and the small creature slammed into the ground at a lethal speed. With a magical crackle, the squirrel’s limp form morphed into that of an older man just as motionless, the sudden impact and transformation stunning him into silence.

After a few moments of collecting his thoughts and blinking the stars from his vision, Rowan turned his head with a moan and was met with a stump. The proud tree that he had expected to land in had been chopped down, and by the looks of it, recently and sloppily. Pushing himself up to a sitting position with a grunt, he looked around to see that this stump wasn’t alone. Most of this grove of hickory trees had been chopped down in a hurry, within three or four days of each other. Rowan strained to see where the stumps stopped, but after a moment of not being able to make anything out, he muttered a curse and a spell. His vision sharpened, and he could see that this new clearing stretched all the way to the end of the forest. The freshly cut trees were stacked at the edge of the village about 100 meters away, and a few men were already working on breaking down the thick trunks into usable logs and lumber.

Rowan’s second curse was louder as he gathered himself up off the ground. The clear sky shone a brilliant blue above him, almost mocking the trees that once stretched up to its height and blocked it from the view of anyone on the forest floor. He walked through the carnage, making his way to the middle and keeping an enhanced eye out for any entrances to the warren. Most of them had been destroyed by the careless actions of the townsfolk, but there were a few that were only partially collapsed and looked like they may be usable. Placing a hand near one of the more intact openings, Rowan took a deep breath to calm his anger and extended his thoughts outward, trying to sense if any of the rabbits were trapped below.

Within a few moments, he could tell that most of the warren had fled, but there were a few rabbits remaining, too frightened to emerge with all of the activity that had taken place. Rowan found a relatively undisturbed entrance closer to where these animals were burrowed and changed his form to squeeze through. He followed the tunnels down and found the small dens where these rabbits were holed up and managed to get them to follow him back up to the surface. After taking a few wrong turns as he tried to remember his way out, Rowan led his miniature parade back towards the untouched woods, planning to lead them to one of the locations he had considered before. But as he was about to plunge back into the still forested area, an unnaturally bent branch caught his eye. Why would that sapling be curved over so far, as if something was holding it in place…?

Just in the nick of time, he recognized what the odd angle of the twig and the barely visible string hanging from it meant. Rowan stopped in his tracks, the rabbits halting behind him, as he stared directly at the snare set before him. His small shape began to tremble, not with fear, but with anger. The villagers had noticed the warren in their logging efforts, and after taking more wood than they likely needed just to be able to decorate their homes or build even more structures closer and closer to his forest, they decided to take advantage of the animals’ lives they disturbed in the process. With a roar far too mighty for his diminutive size, Rowan burst back into his normal form as a flash of fire consumed the snare, the sapling, and a modest area of grass around it.

The rabbits, if not startled by Rowan’s sudden change, were certainly spooked by the sudden flames and darted into the thicker woods, avoiding the charred patch in the forest floor and, thankfully, any other snares that had been set nearby. Rowan watched them head off, knowing they would find somewhere to relocate, but still furious at the villagers and their gall, their audacity to take whatever they wanted from his forest with no regards to the balance and order he had been maintaining for… well, certainly years, probably decades, but long enough to know when someone had overstepped their bounds. A rather impetuous plan began to form in his head, and a cold smirk of satisfaction curled across his face as he hashed out the finer details.

Though it might not teach everyone in the village a lesson, it would certainly make them think twice about setting an inconsiderate foot in his forest for quite some time.


	2. The Forest Witch

Daphne eyed the roof suspiciously, as if daring it to start leaking. She couldn’t see any signs of the light rain outside dripping in from her current vantage point, but she knew her room didn’t accurately reflect the exterior condition of any part of her dwelling.

Not that she wasn’t grateful for it! It was extremely considerate and generous for Professor Audric to give her the pocket tent to use in the first place. She had no idea where he found it or who he might have known who had one, since they had fallen out of style with more extravagant castings of shelter spells that could generate whole mansions. But she had to save her magic for her research! She couldn’t be wasting such time and energy simply to maintain a place for her to stay! And this way, she didn’t have to try and find housing at villages around the forest and keep travelling back and forth. She could stay right here in the woods and continue studying her surroundings and trying her experiments out in the field… literally!

She laughed at her own joke. Yes, this tent was perfect, and even came furnished! It was just… well. A little, um. Well used. Much like the books she used when first studying at the academy, this tent had certainly had previous owners that had taken full advantage of their ownership. The tent’s interior was cozy enough and had enough space for one person to live for a while. But the mismatched, uneven furniture had seen some better days, and if there was ever a strong wind outside, Daphne had to make sure that the draft didn’t send any embers from her fire flying through the room onto her notes. 

Not to mention the exterior. When she had unfolded the tent this evening, she couldn’t help but make a face at how ragged it looked. Admittedly, it would probably keep anyone from attempting to break in or steal it, but she did her best to camouflage it each night just in case. Moving the tent beside some bushes, she grabbed some nearby branches and did her best to make the tent blend in with its surroundings. But when she went to place the branches across the top of the tent, she gasped in surprise as she saw a tear right across the top of the canopy. Her careful repair had involved a simple mending spell, woven with caution in an attempt to not disturb the old enchantment in the fabric tying the tent and the room inside together. Or the tent itself- it certainly looked like it had weathered a few storms in its time, and she wasn’t sure how many others it could survive.

Daphne shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. There was no sense worrying about something she had no control over at this point. She had done her best to fix the rip, and if it was going to be a problem, she’d try a different approach. And if that didn’t work, she could always ask for advice in her report to Professor Audric. He’d know how to fix it, or at least know who to ask. 

Speaking of her report! She jumped in her seat and snatched up a few pieces of parchment, reviewing the notes she had taken over the past few days. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to make Professor Audric agree to her somewhat unconventional research plans. Most students would have been satisfied doing research at another university or under a well-known wizard, learning more about their chosen school of magic and maybe contributing to a new arcane discovery. But Daphne wanted to study something different, something most people would avoid or write off. Too difficult, too complicated, too outside the typical scope of arcane schooling. But she had a theory about other sources of magic besides careful practice and instruction. 

Power stemming from nature or a bloodline or some sort of interplanar bargain or the gods, whatever you wanted to call it, these things didn’t just happen. Nothing just happened randomly. Any action or consequence or event could be traced back to an underlying desire or trigger or starting point, you just had to keep digging. If you hit a dead end, you were following the wrong thoughts, not asking the right questions. If you kept asking “why,” you would eventually find the answer… right?

That was her belief anyway. Something had to initiate these sources of power, so she was determined to find out what it was. Sorcerers and warlocks could be explained fairly easily, she figured. Some combination of conjuration and transmutation tied into a person’s very essence, perhaps even some enchantment or necromancy if the source was malignant. She could figure out the particulars later. Divine magic… made her hesitate. Clearly there was some sort of energy clerics and paladins tapped into, but at its core, it just seemed like evocation to her. The practice of manipulating that evocation into other effects was certainly unique, but why was calling on a god’s influence any different than accessing the arcana? But this led to deeper, philosophical questions that she once tried to bring up with her devout father. Not in an accusatory manner, simply one of curiosity and reason! But he would have none of that talk in his house, so she kept her theories to herself. She’d look more into those when she wasn’t under such scrutiny.

But nature magic. Oh, this was the one that interested her most of all. Her friends… well, classmates at the academy wrote it off as phony herbalism or conjuration, that’s the easiest answer, and they didn’t have to spend an entire semester in the middle of the woods to figure that one out, Daffodil. Her ears twitched at the memory of the mocking nickname. Sure, that was part of it, but there was definitely more there. Conjuration didn’t explain how looking out at a valley surrounded by mountains or hearing deafening cracks of thunder could fill you with awe or admiration or fear or all kinds of emotions. Was there some underlying enchantment running through nature and its magic? Daphne certainly felt drawn to it, as if something was calling her towards it to figure out its secrets. 

And then what about plants with magical properties? Did something within them evoke a magical reaction when mixed, or had the plants themselves been transmuted to have these characteristics, and the trait had been passed down through the millennia? She had managed to locate a few of these plants over the two weeks she had been in the forest so far. Through some rather dangerous and, ah, unorthodox sample collection, she had a few leaves and vines that she was prepared to study this evening. She assumed that these broken-off pieces would lose some of their magical properties without being connected to a main plant body, but she still had some experiments she wanted to run before scaling up to tests on the full thing. That… and she figured she needed to better prepare herself than she had earlier in the afternoon. She’d have to keep a better eye out for vines in the future…

But for now! Daphne stoked her fire up a bit, cleared off her main desk, and laid her samples out carefully. Let’s see what kind of discoveries she could make tonight!


	3. The Dryads

Hazel woke up, stretching their arms out until they could feel the tips of their branches. By this point, the sun had certainly set and the forest would be cleared out of anything that might threaten them, whether person, animal, or fey. They ran their fingers through their hair, straightening out some of the leaves that had been rustled while they slept, and moved to step out of their tree to walk through the woods. Maybe they'd go see how Juni was doing, and how the rabbits that had recently burrowed under them were settling down. Excited by the prospect, Hazel took a step forward onto the surrounding grass, and walked face-first into fabric.

They flailed instinctually, throwing a hand out to cast a defensive spell. Vines erupted from the ground and wrapped around whatever was in front of them, but Hazel wasn't sticking around to find out. They ducked back into their tree while the vines did their work. After a few moments, they strained to hear any sounds of struggle as whoever or whatever was in front of her tried to work their way out of the vines. When they didn't hear anything, though, they stuck their head out to see what they had entangled.

It didn't seem to be the shape of any creature they had seen before, and when it wasn't moving at all, they took a braver step outwards to see if they had hurt it. They bent down and moved some of the vines aside to see... some sort of shelter? That's what it had to be, right? Just a piece of fabric that was stretched across a frame, and they were able to see a space where it looked like someone could enter into it. They couldn't hear anything coming from inside the shelter either, so if there was someone inside, they hadn't disturbed them. 

Hazel breathed a sigh of relief. They wouldn't have known what to do if there really was someone or something there. But at the same time... was there someone there? They couldn't really tell if anything was inside the shelter, or even if that's what it was, to be honest. And there was a good chance they wouldn't see anything like this again, so shouldn't they check it out? ... With some help?

They ran off to find Juni, and they saw them outside their tree, helping to cover the entrance to the burrow below their branches. They skidded to a halt right next to them, startling them and causing them to drop the twigs they were setting up.

"Hazel, what the-"

"Juni there's something outside my tree and I don't know what it is but I want to find out and I don't think it's dangerous but I can't tell if there's someone or something in it or what it really is so I was hoping you would come look with me you will right?"

"I... what?" Juni shook their head with a small sigh. "I got about half of that. There's something outside your tree? What does it look like?"

"Well, it looks like some kind of shelter, with some fabric draped over it, and it’s really worn down, but there might be some way to look inside, and I want to see what’s inside it!”

“But you didn’t want to look at it alone.”

“Well… no. Because I wanted you to see it too!”

“Yes, definitely that, and not because you’re turning into a shrinking violet.”

“WHAT!” Hazel yelled. “Juniper, I can’t believe you would say such a thing! I’m not a shrinking violet, I just thought you might want to see something new and exciting, but if that’s how you’re going to act-“ They began to turn away in a huff, but Juni let out a moan and picked themselves up off the forest floor.

“Fine, fine, I’m coming, don’t be such a pansy.”

“A PANSY?!” The two bickered back and forth as they traveled the short distance between the trees, but as they approached their destination, Hazel held up a hand for silence. Juni promptly ignored it, walking over to the odd shape and picking off a few of the remaining vines from Hazel’s initial attack. “Wow, you were right, you’re not a shrinking violet, this looks more like morning glory-“

“Would you hush! It’s right against my tree, I walked right into it, what was I supposed to do?”

“You really got this tent good, Zel, taught it a lesson, see if it ever comes back here again-“

“SHHH! You might wake it up- wait, did you just call it a tent?”

“Mm-hmm.” Juni kept removing the tangled plants from the canvas. “I’ve seen travelers use them in the woods before, they’re little shelters that the villagers use to sleep in when they’re too far away from a house to stay in through the night.”

“A tent… but if the villagers use them, does that mean that there’s someone inside?”

“Only one way to find out.” Juni moved aside on of the tent’s flaps and stuck their head in. Hazel strangled a shriek and ran over to pull their friend out of the tent of certain death, but Juni popped their head back out right as Hazel made their move.

“Whoa, Hazel, you have got to see this.” They grinned and gestured with their head before looking back inside. Hazel hesitated, thinking of all the trouble they could get into, before taking a deep breath and plunging their head through the gap as well.

They gasped at the scene that lay before them. There was so much more space inside this tent than what it looked like from outside! This is what they imagined a house must look like, with walls and a floor and a ceiling and furniture and… Hazel gasped audibly this time, earning her an elbow from Juni. But they couldn’t help it! There was a person right there, asleep on one of those, uh, table things!

“Don’t wake them up, Zel!” Juni scolded, then stepped inside to look closer.

“June!” Hazel hissed, but Juni dismissed them with a wave of their hand. Hazel followed them over to the sleeping figure, taking partial cover behind their shoulder. They could see now that this person was sound asleep, making no indication that they had heard their entrance into the tent house. In fact, it sounded a bit like they were snoring.

“Who is this, what are they doing here?” Hazel asked quietly, and as a response, Juni picked up some of the papers not trapped under the figure’s arm or head. The sudden rustle made them jump, and they received another punishing glare from Juni.

“These papers look like… drawings of different plants?” they whispered. “And there’s something written underneath, but I can’t tell what it says. But maybe they’re about the plant? Are they trying to learn about what’s in the forest?”

“Ooh, maybe we could help!” Hazel suggested, perhaps a little loudly. The person’s pointed ears twitched, causing the dryads to freeze in place, but after a few moments of no other movements, they resumed their conversation. “I mean, who better to help them learn about the plants than us, right?”

“I… guess we could? But they’re asleep right now, I don’t think we should wake them up.”

“Yeah, you’re right… Oh! Maybe!” Hazel pointed at the notes in Juni’s hand. “If they’re studying about the plants, maybe we could study them! And if we see something that we want to learn more about, then we can ask, right?”

“Gods, we could, Zel, but weren’t you the one who was so worried about this in the first place? I’m pretty sure tents aren’t normally whole rooms inside, so this person’s probably some kind of wizard or sorcerer or something. What if they’re here to try and learn about the forest so they can take control of it, huh?”

“… You really think so?” They looked around at the small room, the few clothes scattered around, papers spread across the floor and other pieces of furniture. “I think they’d be a little more organized if they were going to take over the forest.

Juni sighed in exasperation and tossed the papers back onto the table. They gently landed against the person’s arm, but that still didn’t rouse them from their slumber. “Fine, Hazel, you keep an eye on them and see what they’re up to. But when you get scared again, you better hope I’m around to help.” They started to make their way out of the tent.

“Does that mean you’ll help!” Hazel started to follow their friend out, but paused to take a look back at the room and its occupant. After a moment of thought, they went over and grabbed a soft-looking blanket and draped it across the figure’s back to keep them warm. They smiled in excitement and anticipation. They hoped they’d be able to learn a lot from each other, and hopefully learn how to be friends, too!


	4. The Ancient Wizard

Audric Wescott pored over the letters, reports, and books in front of him, trying to find anything that would answer the questions that his student had posed to him. The candles he had lit were dripping over themselves as they continued to shrink, and he was sure that he had already read this particular account twice that evening.

He sat up straight in his chair, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. He was getting too old for this.

Daphne’s enthusiasm had been so contagious that he couldn’t help but agree to her research plans after she hammered out some of the finer details her initial course of action glossed over. Her energy and passion had rekindled a fire within him for teaching and exploring the arcane arts, so he wanted to ensure that this plan of hers would work. He was even able to find her a pocket tent to use for her travels deep down in the forgotten cabinets of the university’s storage. He made sure to set time aside to read her weekly reports, not just for her content, but for any underlying clues about her well-being and morale. When the semester started, everything seemed to be going well, all things considered.

But now he was having second thoughts.

Her previous week’s report had included a small anecdote about how she had fallen asleep at her desk one night and had woken up several hours later with her papers in disarray and a blanket wrapped around her. Both of them dismissed it as restlessness in her sleep at the time, and Audric had allowed himself a smile at the thought. But this week’s report had given him pause, and he wasn’t so sure that it was Daphne’s restlessness that caused these things to happen. He picked up the letter once more and found his eyes drifting to a particular passage.

“I feel like this forest is truly alive, Professor- not just in the sense of the plants and animals, but I can sense a power running through the trees and the bushes. There’s so much for me to discover here, in every rustle of the leaves, every whisper of wind, I can’t wait to find out this forest’s secrets!” Anyone else reading it would have appreciated the poetry behind the words and left it at that. But Audric knew that Daphne chose her words carefully, wanting to be understood the first time. 

So if she said she felt a powerful presence rustling and whispering around her, he knew that there was likely something there that she hadn’t discovered, but it had discovered her.

In his many years, he had never traveled much farther north than the university and its city, so his own knowledge of this subject was unfortunately lacking. He had gathered every account of the Minsiya Forest that he could find, then, and tried to see if there was any record of magical or malicious activity. The many records detailed the woods’ massive size, its verdant expanses, and the relatively easy trip one could take through it, if one stuck to the defined road. There were also tales of hidden bandits preying on travelers that attempted shortcuts, dangerous plant life that grew thick and angry, and explorers and map makers who had attempted to traverse the entire forest… with no success.

There was a general estimate of the size of the forest that all of the accounts seemed to agree upon. Minsiya started to the north of Goldcove, the small village of Woodshaven standing as a suitably named outpost before one plunged into the thick trees. The road that cut through there traveled northwest, ending at the base of Talon Peak and the rest of the Shaderidge Mountains. But the woods surrounded the road on both sides and filled in the remaining area between Goldcove and the Shaderidges, growing all the way out to the coastline that had been scouted out by sailors of years past. The farthest anyone had ventured from the lone road was only a few miles, maybe half a day’s travel, before somehow finding themselves faced with the road again or turning back because of the perils they faced. There were a few papers that mentioned a river that ran from the mountains down to the shore, but they seemed to mention it as a point of caution, not detailing why or how the river was dangerous, or any definitive answer on its actual location. But all the records shared the same sentiment: the deeper one traveled into the woods, the less likely one was to return, or at least return with their mind intact. 

Audric sighed, growing more uneasy about the whole ordeal the more he read. Certainly people could exaggerate their tales to make them seem more heroic or more treacherous depending on the effect they were trying to achieve. But when all the first-hand reports mentioned the woods playing tricks on the mind, preying on unsuspecting travelers, and demanding payment for trespassing off of the road, he couldn’t help but imagine Daphne in the situations about which he was reading. He knew she had promised to stay within a day’s travel from Woodshaven, in case anything were to happen where she would need help, but he also knew that her curiosity often got the better of her, and it would not take much to distract her from any promises she made long ago in a city miles away from where she was.

He had to catch himself from spiraling into a string of thoughts and scenarios, none of which had happy endings. Daphne was an incredibly capable witch, and while she may not have had the years of experience he had, she was more than able to find a solution to a problem that she encountered. 

Grabbing a blank piece of parchment, he took pause to collect his thoughts and think of the best way to phrase them. When he had formulated a response, he began to write out his reply:

“Daphne,

Fantastic work on your sample collection- your drawings are as detailed as always, and I am glad to hear that you have made the move to testing in living subjects. I am sure your efforts will yield success, but do not be afraid to explore other pathways that you may not have initially anticipated during this venture. Sometimes the most incredible and meaningful discoveries can come from the most coincidental and accidental of interactions.

I am sure you are taking all necessary and adequate precautions, but I would urge you to be careful as you venture through the Minsiya Forest. It seems that there may be more to this forest than anyone has been able to observe. I will continue to research these woods here, and I will update you with any information I may find. In the meantime, stay close to Woodshaven as we discussed, and do not hesitate to research within the town as well. Perhaps the townspeople will have answers to the questions we have, and even some we may not know we have yet.

Continue your impeccable work, Daphne, and best of luck. I look forward to your next report.

Professor Audric Wescott.”

He waited for the letter to dry, then sealed it and sent it off with a magical crack. He gathered his papers into a more orderly pile, then blew out the candles on his desk. For now, his work was done, and he was going to get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, he had a forest to research.


	5. The Lost Girls

Kendra stomped through the woods, having abandoned the road many days ago. For as dangerous as this forest supposedly was, she certainly hadn't run into anything that was life-threatening by any means.

She was disappointed, really. When she had set out, she had fully intended to never survive to the other side of the Minsiya Forest.

Her exile from her clan was somewhat self-imposed, but if anyone had discovered what happened, she would have been lucky to have made it out of the Shaderidges alive. She had been studying with one of the revered sorcerers of her clan and researching into teleportation and interplanar magics specifically. The sorcerer, Torrin, was well known for his mastery of the arcane and his skill with weaving new spells and techniques, but this notoriety and praise had given him a big head. This pride often led to him neglecting his duties as Kendra’s instructor and instead losing himself in his own research and grandeur. On the few occasions when Kendra could convince him to share his findings, he would often abandon the lesson halfway through whenever she posed a question. Obviously, she couldn’t fully appreciate and recognize his genius because of her inexperience and ignorance, he would state with a cold huff, although she had a feeling that there may have been more underlying causes for this haughtiness. Perhaps her comparatively humble upbringing, or her lack of official, formal training before coming under his tutelage, or maybe something as simple and stupid as her gender. Regardless, he would brush her aside at any challenge to his positions, then walk off without answering any of her inquiries or clarifying any details.

After these occurrences became more frequent, Kendra began to learn how to shape her words so as to not offend the proud sorcerer but still get the answers and information she wanted. But while Torrin’s frustrated fits gave way to only condescending lectures, she began to see more and more holes in his supposed spotless work. She would often try to bring these flaws to light by presenting them as exaggerated hypotheticals or framing it as ideas and thoughts Torrin himself had mentioned before, but even then, her suggestions were dismissed as drivel and incomplete. But Kendra was sure she was right, and after sneaking Torrin’s notes away one day while he was occupied with some other task, her suspicions were confirmed.

The combination of runes and patternings he had written down to include in his teleportation circle were a dangerous arcane cocktail, and the way he had them lined out, she could tell that the slightest mistake in the incantation or inscription would destabilize the magic and cause the spell to spiral out of control. Her eyes widened as she realized the scope of her discovery: this spell wouldn’t have the potential to just harm the caster and their immediate environment. The energy channeled through this spell could potentially wipe out half of the clan. Kendra circled the crucial failure points in Torrin’s notes and set out to find out where the sorcerer had gone off to. 

After asking around to ascertain where he was, she found him knelt on the floor of an empty classroom, putting the final touches on a telltale sigil she recognized from his notes, mistakes and all. She pleaded with him to please wait and take another look at his research to see the faults he had made and how they could be fixed before anyone got hurt. But he angrily rejected her words and interrupted her explanation by starting the incantation. Immediately, the sigil glowed with a familiar teal glow, and Kendra prayed for an agonizingly long moment that she was wrong, so wrong, and that she bear the punishment of Torrin yelling at her for her importunity and perhaps even terminating her studies if it meant the clan was safe. But with his continued spell work, the glow turned from the common teal to a more sickly green, then to a darker black as the spell’s energy began to crackle along the outline of the sigil that he had drawn.

The bolts of arcane power suddenly jumped and collided together in the center of the runes outlined on the floor. They created a swirling, chaotic ball of energy, but the power just built and built, not releasing itself as a spell normally would. At this point, Torrin seemed to realize the mistakes he had made, and Kendra could see him frantically try to cast some sort of counterspell to stop what he had started. That spell flared between his hands, but was quickly sucked into the vortex he had already created. His eyes widened in panic and tried again with a similar result. In a desperate attempt, he grabbed the piece of chalk he was using before and started to change the runes in his initial circle.

Kendra shouted out in alarm and warning- he couldn’t risk destabilizing the magic any more than it already was. The orb continued to spin and grow, threatening to release its energy in a huge destructive blast, and she knew she had to act. She began casting a version of the same spell Torrin had tried, but with a few corrections she had run through her head as possible fixes. Her spell glowed a similar teal but stayed that color as she chanted. She hoped to encompass the errant side effects of the initial spell and send it off to some pocket dimension where it could explode without harming anyone or anything. Finishing her own incantation, the blue energy drifted over the sigil, beginning to siphon off the dangerously building spell as she held up her hands to maintain her concentration over its work.

She watched anxiously as her solution appeared to be working, hoping that her modifications had been enough to keep everything from dispelling, at least in this plane. Not allowing herself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet, she looked over to see what Torrin’s evaluation of the situation was and explain what she was attempting to do. But as she opened her mouth to speak, her words quickly turned to a strangled scream of fear at what she saw the other sorcerer doing.

He had erased almost half of the circle he had drawn and was furiously scribbling new runes to replace what he had eliminated, not paying any attention to the effect they were having on his twisting construct. As he did, he muttered another incantation under his breath, and this new energy added to the magical mixture the two of them had already created. But instead of helping to diffuse everything, this only added to the shaky nature of his first spell’s energy, and the knotted magic began to spin faster and even more out of control. Kendra struggled to keep her spell going and poured even more energy into it, but she knew it wouldn’t hold for long. 

She got out a single syllable of her instructor’s name before her world exploded.

And from that point, everything was a bit of a blur. She had been thrown back against the far wall of the classroom and was dazed for a few moments before her eyes cleared enough to make out what had happened. The damage from the misfire seemed to have been contained in the classroom, thank the gods, but the room was devastated. Desks and chairs were thrown against the walls, and the floor had a large char mark from the magic’s detonation, growing blacker and blacker as she looked closer to Torrin’s original sigil and his… oh, gods.

His body lay motionless where he had been kneeling, oblivious to Kendra’s pleas, and her few attempts at rousing him had no effect. Her normally buzzing brain had gone still and silent, and without knowing at all how to proceed from this… she ran. No one would believe that it was an honest accident, and the clan would think that her inexperience had led to the death of one of its most talented and honored magicians. She wouldn’t be able to show her face anywhere, so it was almost better for everyone to believe that she had died in the explosion too.

At this point, she wished she had.

She had quickly fled from her home in the Shaderidge Mountains and plunged into the Minsiya Forest with no supplies and no idea of where she was going. She had tried to stay on the road and find something to sustain her as she traveled to no certain destination besides away, but after two days of no luck, she had been forced to wander through the thicker woods to find something to keep her alive. And after almost a week of that, she was hungry, dirty, and so, so tired. She had adopted a more aggressive, obvious path through the trees, almost daring something to come find her and put an end to her misery.

Yet it surprised even her when she heard a sudden rustling a few yards off, and a sudden panic struck her heart. She threw up a hasty illusion spell to hide herself in the form of another human and prepared to fire off another magical attack at the source of the noise. She took aim and had already selected the spell she was going to use when a young half-elf bursted through the bushes and fell flat on her face in front of her feet. Kendra was stunned into silence, and before she could ask any questions, the half-elf jumped up with a yelp and began to apologize.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry! I had gotten kind of lost wandering around the woods here, but I heard a noise over here and I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything exciting, but I wasn’t watching where I was going and tripped right over a root of a bush there, and oh, I hope I didn’t hit you or anything! Here, I’ll get my things-“ and she bent over to gather the papers she had dropped with her spill. With a speed Kendra wasn’t expecting, she had gathered her things into a semblance of order and looked up at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, my name’s Daphne and-“ the girl stopped and looked at Kendra with concern. “You look awful!”

“E-Excuse me?” Kendra stuttered.

“GODS, that sounded so rude, I’m so sorry! I just meant you look like you haven’t eaten or had a good night’s rest in a while! Here, as an apology, I’ll take you back to my tent and get you a good meal, and you can get some rest, and we’ll get you cleaned up and back on your way!” This Daphne flashed a grin and headed back off the way she came, motioning for her to follow. “Come on, we’ll have you in tip-top shape in no time, uh… um, what is your name?”

“Kendra…” she said, still dazed from the whole encounter as the half-elf led her off through the woods, talking the whole time. It was almost as if another power drove her to follow, whether it was the promise of a meal or shelter or just someone else to talk to after her miserable week. Maybe… she wasn’t quite as ready to die as she thought.


	6. The Ancient Robot

It was quiet, and it had been quiet for centuries now. It had somehow survived years of amplified wind, hail, snow, rain, and storms of a less natural kind. It was barely intact anymore, admittedly, held together by the overgrowth of vines and moss and similarly resilient plant life. It was still there, though, a shadow of its former self, likely not operational, but still present, a thickly shrouded and forgotten reminder of what it once was and what it once stood for.

It had no idea what it had missed.

First of all, it certainly would not have recognized where it was even if it could be reactivated. There were too many trees too close to the city’s limits where it would stand watch. The city council would have ensured that there was a safe boundary around the walls that was cleared of any large plant life to prevent anyone or anything from sneaking up unexpectedly and unseen into the area.

It also wouldn’t have recognized the city itself, since it was no longer standing. It would have only seen a few stacked stones, crumbling and misshapen and covered in green, in a configuration too ordered to be natural but too chaotic to be usable or identifiable. It might have tried to examine them and find any other remnants of the buildings and businesses and homes that once stood where it would have been standing. But the only thing it could find if it didn’t give up its search would be some metal pieces off of jewelry, perhaps a few coins, and some fragments of tools, all rusted beyond recollection.

If it looked further, it may have expected to find a semblance of the order the city once had, some sort of pattern to the few remaining rocks and foundations. Instead, it would have seen a circular expanse slightly offset from the original city center, perfectly and unnaturally round. The ground within it would be level and charred with no stones or indications that anything had once stood here. The dead grass, still lying flat and not letting anything else grow up through it but itself refusing to crumble and fall away, would have crunched under its feet as it walked through the circle, and it might have been able to make out a sigil on the ground at the center.

The sigil would have been comprised of several intricate runes, still intact after a millennium of exposure to anything nature had to throw at them. The patch of floor the runes were drawn on would have still been there as well, but it was likely that it wouldn’t have really noticed that. Its attention would likely have been focused on what was floating above it.

A massive rift would have been floating above the sigil, crackling angrily with magical energy. The rift would have stood a good eight feet tall, floating half a foot off of the ground, and it would have flashed dark purple and black as it rippled. It wouldn’t have been able to see what was on the other side, but it might have been able to tell that the rift seemed to pulse rhythmically with power. 

If it looked long enough, it also might have noticed how the rift would occasionally destabilize, tremoring under its own arcane might and fluctuating in size, looking like it would collapse. But at that point, it certainly would have noticed the runes flash a bright green, the earth shake slightly beneath it, and tendrils of verdant light shoot up from the ground and latch onto the sides of the rift. The light ribbons would have swelled as energy flowed through them, acting as a conduit between the unstable tear and the stable earth. After a while, the beams would have faded, but the rift would have looked stronger than ever. And if its magical circuitry was complex enough to allow for such a deduction, it may have been able to determine that this sigil was keeping the rift sustained, drawing energy from the forest itself to maintain the connection to whatever was on the other side of this portal to who knew where.  
But it didn’t. It couldn’t have. Even if its original creators were to find its few remaining parts, they would likely abandon any attempt at a mechanical resuscitation of a machine so far gone. So instead, it sat there, a lost sentinel unable to guard or protect, unable to do anything but stay in one place as it had for so many years. It would stay and wait and watch, not operational but still silent and strong, holding on for that one moment when something would move or crack or change and the perception of a situation would shift so suddenly. 

Nothing had changed for a very, very long time.

But if nothing was expected to change, why would the remnants of this city still need the remnants of a watchman?


	7. The Woodsman

Gideon wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. The sun beat down on his well-tanned neck and his arms were extremely sore, but he was proud of the day's work that he and the other men of the village had done. It had been about a week of hard labor, but the reward would be well worth it.

These hickory trees were going to serve the village well.

As he collected the remaining scraps up to use as fuel for the fires throughout the town, Gideon couldn't help but think of everything that he would have had a hand in building. He was not a craftsman by any means, but a strong set of arms and a willingness to work could go far in helping those craftsmen along. The trees he had helped to cut down had been chopped up into logs for carvings and decorations, boards for building new houses and repairing old ones, chips to use in flavoring meats to smoke and dry for the winter, tinder and firewood for almost the entire village, and a myriad of other things he was probably forgetting. But that was alright, he was happy to help in any way that he could.

Ever since he left his service in the province's army, he had wanted to do something more constructive with his life rather than the destruction that he had seen. Not that the province had seen a lot of war- far from it. Prince Kerran had instilled a sense of peace throughout the region after the rather tumultuous transition of power from his father's hands into his. But there were still the roaming bands of goliaths and bandits and other troublemakers throughout the region, and anyone who was threatening a village or city was to be dealt with accordingly.

For a few years of this service, Gideon felt that he was doing his part to help the province and keep the peace that was a blessing to the people that lived there. But after a while, he started to feel that his actions weren't steering his life in a direction that felt... right. Anyone he would have talked to about it would have thought he was crazy and likely would have dismissed his questions as an addled mind. He was a strong fighter and was right where he belonged, like so many other half-orcs. But whether it was his human side or his orc side, Gideon knew with his whole self that something just wasn't sitting well with him.

Originally, he had thought that this unease meant he wasn't following his orders well enough or dedicating the necessary energy and focus to his duties. He doubled down on his tasks at hand and continued to re-sign with the army after his tours were finished. But when that didn't seem to solve the problem, he wasn't quite sure where to turn. Only after a long stint in a quiet village recovering from a rather nasty storm and subsequent flooding of their nearby river, his specific soft spot for the children that followed the military personnel around constantly, and his chance encounter with a beautiful and kind woman that didn't seem to mind his appearance did Gideon finally put it together.

He wanted to help people, sure, but he didn't want to do it under the banner of a province or prince, keeping up appearances and only assisting where he was instructed to assist. He wanted the freedom to help one of the younger boys fix his broken toy, lift heavy packages for the elder members of the community, and do anything he could to make Elaine smile and laugh one more time for the night. So when he returned to the capital city, she came with him, and he didn't sign another term of service this time. Instead, he gathered his belongings, added them to the few Elaine had brought with her, and moved north to Woodshaven. It was a perfect place to settle down and raise a family, and if there ever was any threat from the surrounding Minsiya Forest (of which he had heard only tales), he would not hesitate to take up his axe in defense.

But there hadn't been anything out of the ordinary since the two of them had moved there a year ago, and although they were still referred to as "the new couple" in town, the village had been nothing but welcoming. The other woodsmen had rejoiced at Gideon's request to join their ranks, and the seamstress was more than happy to have another steady, practiced hand at her side. And now, they had a small house to themselves, a child on the way, and a much more fulfilling life than marching through the province in heavy, hot armor.

As the crew walked back into town from the outskirts where they had been working, the other woodsmen invited him to the tavern for a round of drinks to celebrate a hard day’s work, though he knew that often would turn into two or three rounds before the night was over. He protested at first, but after their pleading, acquiesced to just one round, gentlemen, then home to my wife, and followed them inside. He wasn’t keeping the best track of time as the drinks and conversation and laughter flowed, but he berated himself harshly as his stomach sank when a younger boy from the village burst into the tavern, out of breath and the fear apparent on his face, clearly here to make some sort of announcement of dread.

“T-There’s a wolf!” he gasped out, locking eyes with Gideon. “A huge wolf, howling outside the village, and it sounds like it’s coming closer!”

While some of the other, more inebriated men fumbled with their drinks and belongings, Gideon was the first out the door, following the boy as he led them back to their worksite. As they approached, he could tell that the logs and planks they had spent days preparing had all been knocked over, strewn across the ground. There was also a small fire that had started near the wood piles, and Gideon made a beeline for it, stomping it out before it could spread any farther. But as he extinguished the flames, he realized that what was burning wasn’t any of the logs from their trees. He looked closer in the embers to see for sure but it looked like… snares. 

The snares he and the other men had set while they cut down the hickory trees to catch a few more rabbits for a summer celebration the following week had all been torn out, broken, and set on fire by someone or something. But as Gideon inspected them, it seemed like there were more of them than the three or four they had set on the edge of the hickory grove. There was at least a dozen here if not more, all smoldering now that the fire had been put out. These had very clearly been found, ripped out, destroyed, and set aflame to make a statement. But who or what would have done something like this?

A piercing howl split the quiet twilight and Gideon’s attention snapped up from the ashes of the fire to the forest’s edge. There he was, a truly huge wolf; the boy had not been exaggerating. He finished his howl, shook out his fur, and started making his way towards the village edge. He watched as the wolf began stalking over, then picking up the pace to a walk, a canter, and soon a full sprint, bearing down on the woodsmen’s small camp. Gideon sprang into action, his instincts and training taking over as his desire to protect the village swelled in his chest. He grabbed an axe lying nearby and ran to face the wolf head on, tapping into his more feral bloodline. He put a significant distance between him and the village before stopping suddenly, taking on an aggressive stance, and roaring himself to show the wolf exactly what he was up against.

The wolf seemed surprised at this display and also stopped, a good ten paces away from Gideon. The two stared each other down for a long while, glaring into each other’s eyes. Gideon could see that the wolf was angry and prepared to strike, but he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves now that he knew he was up against a formidable foe. He could almost see the wolf’s mind working, intelligent thoughts and plans forming behind the teeth and gray fur. That was the other thing Gideon could notice now that he was closer- this wolf was old. Certainly not feeble, but he was surprised to see an animal with so much gray in its fur besides the normal coloring. But he kept staring him down, unmoving, almost daring the beast to make the first move.

After what seemed like thirty minutes, but was likely closer to thirty seconds, the wolf snarled menacingly. Gideon’s grip tightened on the handle of the axe, but instead of striking, the wolf took half a step back while maintaining eye contact. As he glowered, Gideon could have sworn he saw the wolf’s eyes flash to something more human for just a moment, then to something darker and more menacing for a moment that was even more brief. But the wolf turned away with a snarl before Gideon could ascertain anything else and walked back into the recently created clearing. As he walked back, he watched as the tree stumps seemed to crumble in on themselves as the wolf passed, breaking down and becoming one with the earth before saplings rose out from the same spots. Eyes wide, he watched as the saplings grew into full trees in a matter of minutes rather than years, the hickory grove growing back in right before him.

As a few of the woodsmen ran out to meet up with him and ensure that everything was okay, Gideon’s brow furrowed. He had seen enough in the military to know that this was some sort of natural magic and that there was nothing natural about that wolf either.

Maybe all of those stories about the Minsiya Forest weren’t just legends after all.


	8. The Dreamer

They were flying.

Well, gliding seemed more accurate. There weren't any wings or spells or magical items involved, and they didn't seem to be able to direct where they were going. They were more along for the ride, not steering the ship. So, gliding.

They were gliding, then, through the forest at an incredible speed, soaring over the lush floor, slaloming through the tall oaks and skimming the tops of the higher juniper and hazel bushes. They could recognize the plant and animal life as they passed, seemingly silent and invisible to the small herd of deer or pockets of sparrows within the trees' branches. They could also see the entrances to the burrows of rabbits and nests of squirrels they wouldn't normally be able to spot out so well from a normal walk along the forest's road. They could also tell they had left the road behind quite a while ago, and they were in a relatively unknown part of the woods, though a part of them felt like it was familiar. But they continued on, noticing how beautiful and green everything was, but also noticing how the woods seemed a bit thinner than what they had expected or seen. There was plenty of life there, sure, but it seemed... younger somehow.

Regardless, they kept following the force that pulled them along, over a large, babbling river that they weren't expecting to see, wait, yes, they were, that river had always cut through the forest. Across the river, they made their way through a few more acres of woods before reaching a sudden clearing. Bursting out of the trees, they could see a circle of space free from any tall trees or plants being meticulously tended to by a few individuals throughout the area. As they traveled over it, none of these people made any sign that they noticed them passing or approaching closer to the large statues that were in the center of the clearing. These statues stood tall and imposing, facing out towards the woods, when they suddenly felt like one of them had moved. No, that wasn't possible, but as they looked closer, they watched as one of these statues did indeed shift their position. 

They braced themselves for an impact or a fight, but then realized that the structure hadn’t moved to attack, but rather to allow some of the individuals on the ground to continue their work. They wanted to take a closer look, and whatever was driving them forward relaxed and allowed them to deviate for a moment. They swirled around the construct, examining its stone body and metallic attachments from every side. It was obviously built for defense, since there was a priority for bulk and armor over finesse. Its gaze also never strayed from the forest’s edge, keeping a watchful eye, or, er, rock, towards any incoming creature or person that might want to attack. Its position was not threatening, but prepared for anything to happen. These were clearly designed by a master of magic to animate such subtleties with input from a fighter and tactician on how to best orient these sentinels for protection. But what were they protecting?

As they kept looking at the hulking robot, they felt the force pull their attention and their self away from the clearing towards its center, and they could finally tell that they had reached their destination. They gasped as they approached a huge, gorgeous city with several buildings of carved stone and wood built side by side. They flew through wide streets with various vendors and townspeople buying and selling a variety of foods and tools and handicrafts. Children ran through the roads, darting between their parents and caretakers from stall to stall, admiring what each one had for trade.

They could see a variety of structures lining the streets, ranging from humble homes of one or two rooms to more elaborate domiciles to buildings clearly marked as taverns, healers, schools, and more. Although the places ranged in size and stature and decoration, it didn't seem that the people of the city were divided up into any sort of class structure. Small huts were next to tall towers with no regard for strict property lines or prestige or anything. The citizens didn't seem to have any divisions either with people of almost every race and creed melding together into a diverse, peaceful community.

Although this was very clearly a city built by people over many years, they couldn't help but notice how closely everything seemed to be to the nature surrounding them. Trees and plants grew throughout the town, and they thought they could see several gardens scattered between the buildings in alleyways. Every once in a while, they could see animals working their ways through the city as well. Some of them would even stop and interact with the townsfolk. The only word they could think of to describe this cohabitation was... beautiful.

The force guided them through the roads into a building slightly offset from the city center. They noticed a sign out front indicating that these were the offices and classrooms of some sort of school, and as they moved through the hallways, they finally came to a stop inside a room with desks and chairs pushed up against the walls. There were notes written up on boards at the front of the room detailing some sort of deep connection between nature and people. Also, there was a small section off to the side of the boards detailing a relationship between the magic inherent in the forest and the magic that could be accessed from other elemental planes, even the Feywild. As they read on, they couldn't help but feel a slight sense of dread as the notes outlined a bridge that could be built between the worlds to draw them closer together to learn more about each other.

They felt a shiver go down their spine and turned at the sensation of someone else entering the room. A lithe elf was running their hand through their silvery hair and pacing in a circle around the room, muttering something under their breath and staring at the floor. Their gaze followed the elf's down to the floor, and their heart sank. 

The teleportation sigil drawn along the floorboards was already glowing with a soft teal light, and only then did they notice that the elf's mutterings were rhythmic and lyrical, not just a stream of consciousness. Without any warning, the teal lights shifted to a dark purple and black, and magical energy crackled between the sigil's runes. They couldn't help but shout out in warning and fear, despite the fact that the wide-eyed, fearful elf couldn't hear their cry, but it was too late to stop the powerful explosion that rocked the room. They were thrown back from the room's center, blinded by a dark, all-encompassing force...

They woke up, suddenly and separately.

Daphne woke up, eyes wide, mourning the loss of such knowledge and beauty in a likely preventable magical mistake.

Kendra woke up, arm extended, mid-shout, mourning the fact that such an event had happened before with so many more lives lost without her being able to do anything about it.

Gideon woke up, hands raised to block the incoming blast, mourning the child he would never get to see as he shielded his wife without regarding his own safety in the slightest.

And Rowan woke up, face damp, mourning the loss of his city, his people, his neighbors and friends because of one stupid mistake… wait, what city? Goldcove was still standing as far as he knew, and he had few neighbors and even fewer friends nowadays. So why did he feel this loss so deeply and so profoundly, as if it was truly his?

The four of them tried to recover from this vivid dream, either in the company of each other, their loved ones, or their own minds. They couldn’t explain exactly what they had seen or experienced, but there was one thing that they all could still feel lingering in the back of their minds.

The force that had guided them throughout their vision and shown them these things was still there. It was softer and not as driving, but it was still present, still persistent. It was still pulling them towards the forest’s depths, calling them to the city, urging them to come closer and discover what was awaiting them.

For better or for worse, the four of them had been chosen by whatever had reached out and touched their minds for that brief dream. And, for better or for worse, this was one choice that the four of them knew they could not ignore.


	9. The Centaur

He cantered through the woods, deftly avoiding any knotted roots that would have tripped up his hooves or low-hanging branches that would have smacked him in the face… again. Though not obvious to anyone else, the young centaur followed his familiar and well-traveled path closer to the forest’s edge than most of his herd dared to tread. He had been warned about straying too far away, but he had promptly ignored those warnings and wandered off years ago, resulting in a few bad encounters but new, dear friends that more than made up for it. He just hoped he hadn’t missed them yet.

Dryads were known for being a little flighty.

But Hazel and Juniper said that they would wait for him before wandering through the woods tonight, particularly because they said they had something really exciting to tell him. He had felt a little guilty for making them wait so long, but the herd was in the middle of moving to another part of the forest because of the influx of a particularly nasty patch of lash weeds near their former encampment. After he helped to gather his family’s things and get everyone settled, he found an opportune time to bow out from the excitement and make his way over to their neck of the woods. He had done his part to ensure a smooth transition, right? The herd would be fine… right? He shook his head, ducked under another branch, and continued on his way. He would meet up with Hazel and Juniper, see what they had to say, and then head back quickly. He was sure they would understand once they heard about the move.

He slowed as he got closer to their groves. He had gotten much better at recognizing the different plants in the forest over the last year, partially because of the insistence of his older brother that he keep practicing, and partially from Zel and Juni’s help. Who would have guessed that dryads were good at telling plants apart? He smiled at the thought and received a swift smack in the face from a pine tree for his inattentiveness. He shook it off, collected his thoughts, and more carefully wandered over to where he was pretty sure Zel and Juni would be. 

But he didn’t see them anywhere around. After a minute of waiting for them to show up, he sighed and tilted his head back, eyes closed. He was debating on waiting here longer or making a few laps around the area to see if he could find the two of them. He was so sure he had remembered this time! Hazel and juniper, past the pines, right over the small hill that always seemed to have the perfect sized rocks to get stuck in his hooves…

In his defense, almost no one would have heard them coming. Dryads were known for being pretty sneaky that way.

Suddenly, he felt two arms wrap around his torso and two hands cover his eyes. He shouted in alarm and took a few steps backwards, his hands shooting up to try and pry the ones off of his eyes. His mind raced as he tried to think of who or what might be attacking him with four arms. His hands found purchase on two wrists, and he pulled with all his might, but the hands fought back to stay on his face. As he twisted and turned to try and loosen the arms clenched around his stomach, he couldn’t help but replay all the warnings and scoldings he had received about going out too far from the herd. 

He was preparing to just make a break for it, running in any direction he could and hoping Zel and Juni would stay safe in their trees, when he finally focused on what he could hear rather than what he could feel. Was that… laughter?

He gave the wrists one final tug and they finally obliged, pulling away to let him see his ferocious attackers. Sure enough, there were two figures in front of him laughing, their leaves rustling and adding to the noise. He let out a small whine, which only made them laugh harder.

“Guuuuuys, what the fey?” He addressed his two young dryad friends before him. “I come all this way, couldn’t find you, think someone’s attacking me, all while I should be helping the herd move-“

“Wait, the herd’s moving?” Juni raised an eyebrow as Hazel wiped a tear from her eye. “What’s wrong with where you were?”

“Lash weed,” he said, rubbing at a sore spot on his side. “We noticed it growing in over the past few weeks or so, but something really triggered it to spread about… four days ago? And after a few of the younger colts got pretty hurt, the elders decided to move to a safer clearing.”

“Well that makes sense,” Hazel mused, and Juni’s face had adopted a strange look. “I hope everyone’s okay and can heal up soon. If the tribe needs anything in particular, we can certainly gather some things before you head back.”

“Aw, thanks guys, I think we’ll be okay.”

“But still, let us know, alright, Agron?” Hazel smiled and patted at the sore spot on his side, and he felt the area grow warm under their touch. As they pulled away, he could automatically feel the difference in the healed area.

He smiled. “I will, thanks, Zel. But speaking of letting people know about things!” His eyes lit up. “What did you guys want to tell me? You said it was really exciting!”

“It is!” Hazel chirped. “We found new friends, Agro!”

“What? Who? Where are they, why haven’t I met them yet?”

“Well you haven’t been here, have you, silly?”

Agron grimaced. “No, I guess I haven’t… well, what are their names?”

“Uh… we don’t know.” Hazel looked to Juniper a bit nervously, but the other dryad was still lost in thought.

“… What.”

“Look, it’s a half-elf and a dragonborn, and we aren’t entirely sure why the dragonborn is here, but the half-elf was researching plants and stuff about magic, and then the dragonborn one showed up one day and looked really confused, but she didn’t look like a dragonborn at first because she disguised herself as a human, but we’ve seen her a couple times when she lets her spell drop, and she’s really pretty and blue, but I guess she doesn’t want anyone to know about it?”

“Zel, wait-“

“And so now they’re friends and they’ve been looking at plants and things together, and we’ve been watching and learning all kinds of stuff from them, and we’ve been trying to think of a way to help but we couldn’t think of anything, so we wanted to ask you what you thought, but then they had this dream like four days ago that they’ve been talking about, and they’ve been moving further into the forest away from our trees, so we wanted to see if maybe you could keep an eye on them when they got too far? Well most of it was my idea, Juni wants to still make sure they’re not dangerous or planning on trying to take over the forest or something weird like that-“

“Zel!” Agron grabbed his friend’s gesturing hands. “You’ve got to slow down, I got maybe half of that.”

“Oh, I can repeat it again if you want-“

“No, that’s alright! Uh, I’ll summarize. So,” he started, trying to unscramble the jumble of words he had just heard. “you two found a half-elf living here and studying the plants and the magic of the forest, and then she found a dragonborn that’s disguising herself as a human, and they’ve been friends and working together, but then they had a dream and that made them move?”

“And you said you only got half of it!”

“But, wait, was it the same dream? What was it about?”

“We… don’t really know that either. It seems to be the same dream, and they keep saying something about a city? And like I said, they’ve been moving farther into the forest, and we want to keep track of them, and we knew that you all lived farther in, so we thought maybe you or the herd could watch them if we couldn’t! We’ve been worried about them since this dream- well, I’ve been worried, Juni’s been thinking so much about it.”

Agron had to take a second to think about it too. Not only was it strange to see people off of the road in the woods, but being off the road intentionally studying the forest and finding other people who were disguising themselves? And then having the same dream? He was pretty sure that didn’t usually happen, but if they had it at the same time those four days ago…

“Wait, did you say four days ago?” He was having so many thoughts at once, it was hard to keep them all straight.

“Something like that, it might have been longer than that-“

“No,” Juni finally spoke up and looked Agron dead in the eyes. “It was exactly four days ago, the same day you said that the lash weed started to act up.”

“Whoa… do you think they’re related?”

“I’m not sure, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from these people,” and they held up a single finger for emphasis, “it’s that nothing in these woods is at all what it seems to be.”

“Oh geeze, I don’t know, guys…” Agron ran a hand through his hair. “Is, is this something I should tell the elders about? Did their dream make the lash weed act up, or did the weeds make the dream? But weeds can’t make people have dreams, right?”

“Agro,” Juni took one of his hands and held it. “I’m not sure what’s going on. We’re not sure, and we’ve been watching these people for a little while. But we just wanted you to know that they’re here and might be moving closer to the herd. I don’t know what they’re looking for or what city they’re talking about, but we won’t be able to watch them for much longer.”

“But we want to!” Hazel chimed in. “I want to figure out what they’re doing, and what that dream was!”

“Hazel, it might be-“ they sighed before continuing and gave Agron’s hand a squeeze. “We’re not sure if they mean any harm, because it certainly hasn’t seemed like it. But after this weird dream, who knows what might happen. So please just be careful, okay?”

“I will, Juni, thanks for letting me know.” He smiled and squeezed their hand back. He reached over with his other hand to grab Hazel and pulled both of them in for a tight hug. “I’m glad you two are alright, and thanks for everything you’ve been able to find out so far. I’ll let you know if anything else happens, but it really sounds like I need to get back to the herd and let them know, too.”

“I think that’s a great idea! Maybe the elders will know what to do!” Hazel returned the hug enthusiastically, and even Juni warmed up to it a bit more than usual.

Agron held his friends close, then said his goodbyes and headed home. He wasn’t sure what to make of everything he had been told, but he was hoping someone in the herd would know what to do. As he traveled back, he couldn’t help but keep an eye out for any mysterious figures walking around. Sure, he didn’t know who they were exactly… but how cool would it be to meet new friends who knew more about the forest? Maybe they’d be able to help out with the lash weed too! He picked up the pace, ready to get back to his family and tell them everything that had happened. Hazel and Juniper were right- this was exciting!


	10. The Snake

He shook his head as he sat on his bed, trying once again to dismiss the tug in his mind that had been persistently nagging him for the past few days. He had other things to worry about, like trying to find that herd of deer that he had scared off a while back when he found the chopped down hickory grove. He could only imagine their fear, their terror as a wave of black and purple flooded over them without warning, destroying homes and buildings and literally ripping families and friends apart from each other, from their city, from their princess…

Rowan tore himself away from the memory with a gasp, eyes stinging with the mental and physical pain of the act. That… wasn’t right. None of that was right. Was it?

First of all, it was a warren of rabbits that he was trying to lead away when he found the snares. As he had lashed out against the one in front of him, the rabbits had scattered to the winds, and he had lost track of them in his revenge plot. He winced a bit at that memory. Ripping out the snares wasn’t a terribly huge loss for the villagers; they could always make more with little effort, even if Rowan had plucked them out of the forest from an area larger than that of the hickory grove. It’s not like the town was going to starve with a few less rabbits.

But setting them on fire? And knocking all of the sawed logs over? That… might have been a little petty. These people lived off of the forest too, just not as deeply as he did. So they had cut down a few more trees than they might have needed, and they had been resourceful enough to realize what was available to them. Why did he feel so angry about it, then? Why had he felt the need to charge the work site at all? He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if he had made it to the village. All he could remember was a fury more powerful that anything he had felt before. It seemed almost beyond him, as if something else was channeling its rage and pain through him, fueling him to strike out.

Thank the gods that half-orc had been brave enough to stand up to him. If someone hadn’t tried to stop him, Rowan shuddered to think what might have happened. He hadn’t recognized that villager, but his strong stance and piercing eyes showed his training as a warrior that was willing to fight to the death to defend what he cared for. He knew the village would be safe under his watch.

And again, his city hadn’t been destroyed, had it? Goldcove was still standing as far as he knew, even if Princess… no, not a princess. It was Prince Kerran’s transition that had been a little rocky. Families and friends may have gotten into arguments or taken different sides under different politicians, but it wasn’t like there had been a huge war or anything. And certainly nothing at the university would have caused such a magical explosion like the one he was remembering, right? His temples ached as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. He would have to write a letter to Audric and see if his memory was so completely addled. It had been… what, a few months since their last correspondence? Rowan knew his friend was busy with his students and research, and he really should have been the one to keep up their conversation, but it had kept slipping his mind too, since he was more worried about… about what?

Another twinge of pain shot across his forehead, and he groaned at the sudden spike driving into his thoughts. He began to go about making himself a pot of tea as the headache only seemed to worsen over time. With a snap of his fingers, a small fire blazed to life in his hearth and crackled pleasantly while he opened a few containers and gathered some medicinal herbs to place in his kettle. His amber ring clinked loudly against the metal handle as he placed the kettle over the fire, causing a new shot of discomfort to travel through his finger and up his arm. He hissed at the pain as he silently cursed his old age and its accompanying maladies. The steeping tea’s soothing properties would provide some relief, but at this point he was growing impatient and irritated at his own body betraying him in so many unique ways.

Rowan lifted his hand up in front of his face, closed his eyes, and started to recite the words to a spell to restore some vitality to his aching bones. He felt his finger with the ring on it pulse once more as he went through the familiar motions, and he scowled at the continued uncomfortable feeling. But halfway through his incantation, Rowan heard a rustle nearby to him and opened his eyes to investigate.

“Ah, my little friend,” he smiled as he stooped down and extended an arm to the small, olive snake that had made its way into his humble hut. Rowan had found the little fellow stuck in the woods about two months ago, and ever since then, the snake had made regular visits to his home. He felt quite at peace in the forest and had the village and the animals to watch over in addition to his letters to Audric, but once this snake had started visiting, Rowan realized how nice it was to have a present companion, even if he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

The reptile slithered up his arm and came to rest around his shoulder and neck. As he reached up to give his new friend a small tap on the head, Rowan could feel his pain and discomfort begin to slip away. It seemed like all he really needed was to relax a bit and quiet his racing thoughts. With a smile, he adjusted his cloak to ensure his tiny cohort wouldn’t go tumbling off, and finished making his tea. The village would be fine, Audric was probably writing him a letter right now, and perhaps he could venture out and find the rabbit warren in a little while. But for now, he would sit back, sip his drink, and enjoy his burgeoning friendship with his slithering supporter.


End file.
